


A Silly Idea

by the_ube_flying_tiger



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-05-17 22:51:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5888326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_ube_flying_tiger/pseuds/the_ube_flying_tiger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alfred takes China out for an evening drive and they step out to lean against the car hood. They succeed in being adorable even when angst comes up whoot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Silly Idea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lady_Caryatid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Caryatid/gifts).



Alfred glanced up at Yao before lowering his absent gaze to his finger tracing patterns on his dusty car hood. Yao noticed the gesture, “What is it?” 

Alfred sat up and waited for a pedestrian to pass out of earshot before starting. “I kinda wish…. We could stay like this.”

Yao raised an eyebrow, “You mean forever?” Alfred laughed at the idea, which had sounded less ridiculous in his head. Yao placed a comforting hand on Alfred's shoulder, keeping him from shifting to an awkward distance from himself.  “You do understand though: nothing lasts forever, not for us at least. You understand that.”

“Yeah, I know. I was just thinking aloud I guess.” He glanced up at Yao again and returned his gaze to his feet once more. Yao remained silent. Maybe he shouldn't have said anything, “Sorry.”

Yao didn't respond for a long time and when he finally spoke it was as if he was also thinking aloud. “Someone told me something like that before.” he said quietly.

Alfred started. He wasn't sure if Yao was referring to his apology, or his ridiculous fantasy. Yao continued, “So much for what we wish for.” 

“Wait, are you talking about—”

“History?” Yao cut him off.

“Yea. Are you talking about the time—”

“I am.”

Alfred sank in his seat and fiddled with his rims, “Oh.”

“I know the nineteenth century must feel far away for you.”

Not really, Alfred thought. 

“At least, farther away than it seems for me.”

“Yao, can I ask you something?”

“Alright. As long as it's not something weird.”

Alfred had to think a minute to decide whether his question was a weird one or not. “Okay. I was just wondering if… You were still angry with him.”

Yao frowned, “With England? You can say his name. It's not such a big deal. Besides, the answer is 'no.' It's just history." He paused, "Well, maybe I'm not being so truthful about that. I'll admit, I do harbor some sort of spite for him.” 

Yao scrutinized the orange and violet sky, tapping two fingers on his chin before turning back to Alfred. “Or maybe 'distrust' is a better word. Or ‘suspicion.’ Anyway, it is nothing I can really help for now,” he added dismissively. 

England once showed Alfred old salvaged photographs from his imperial age. One album was entirely dedicated to portraits of his life with China and Hong Kong. Alfred had asked why England had kept these old photographs, especially when the makeshift family had fallen apart in the most ugly way. England had shrugged and might have returned the album to its shelf if Alfred wasn't so transfixed by the expensively recorded images of his briefly lived family life. 

Alfred considered Arthur’s account of his past relationship with Yao. It wasn't as if he had tried to justify his actions. In fact, Arthur was almost coldly resigned to his own guilt. 

“He says he’s sorry about it all. And he sounded sincere. And I'd know if he was lying.”

Yao didn't respond.

“I mean— Uh, I probably don't have the right to say something like that.”

Yao’s chuckles drowned in the collective laughs of a passing family out for the evening. “I remember when I thought I knew him too... I'm sorry. I don't mean to say you don't know England. Nor do I blame you for being good friends. I know he is remorseful, but you must understand, Alfred.”

“I do! ... Sort of.”

“Then that's enough for me. Thank you.”

Alfred offered a hug and Yao accepted. It was getting dark and the stars were beginning to appear in the night sky, still visible in the moment before the street lamps above them flickered on. Alfred couldn't see Yao's face, and listened instead to the voices dwindling in the distance as the evening strollers moved further from Alfred's car. He was surprised to hear Yao sniffle, and felt as Yao wiped his eyes. Yao took a shaky breath and began cautiously, “And the worst of it was: it was entirely my choice.” 

Alfred took the opportunity to jump in, “But it couldn't have been all your fault. At least from what I've heard. You shouldn't feel responsible for any—”

“—for most of it.”

“Yea,” Alfred held Yao a little closer, “I mean... I guess everyone has responsibility and all, but England was being a total—”

“Bastard.”

“Yea.”

Yao sighed, “I mean to say that we, us two—we're in a completely different situation.”

I'd sure hope so, thought Alfred.

“My government wanted nothing to do with such a union and I was fairly free to do what I wanted.” Yao's voice took on a sarcastic tone, “A few bad choices and…” He mumbled something regretful in his own language. He drew himself away so Alfred could faintly make out Yao's face in the darkness. His eyes and nose had reddened and his face looked wet. 

“I warned you." Yao smiled again and leaned his head against Alfred's chest. "I have a lot of baggage.”

Alfred dug for a tissue in his jacket pocket and produced the bundle of napkins Yao had swapped from a diner earlier that day. He was certain he didn't mind being “assigned” sort to speak with China, and he was maybe even a little glad politics had turned in his favor. But it still wasn't completely fair. 

“I'm sorry you have to be thrown in with me before—like, like… Past wounds've healed and stuff.”

“Look,” said Yao, crumpling the course napkin in his right hand,  “I do like you! Very much! And I'm very grateful for your sensitivity.”

“Yea, I'm probably not very sensitive sometimes.”

“I've been 'thrown in' with worse. Besides, you're making an effort, and I appreciate that.”

“You're welcome.” Alfred felt a little flattered. The street lamp above them flickered on and he began excitedly adjusting his glasses rims. “And you'll call me out when I say something stupid?”

“Of course!” Yao grabbed Alfred's nervous hand and held it still.

Alfred could see his face much better in the the orange glow. He looked drastically different from the pretty photographs in England's archives. Yao's cardigan and cargo shorts seemed to scream "21st century!" Maybe the 1800s did feel far away after all. Alfred tried to imagine what Yao must be feeling, and how recent everything must seem to him. He knew Yao had struggled with modernization after being isolated from the industrial revolution and enlightenment eras, movements Alfred had been practically born out of.   

"Thank you for bringing me out here tonight. I enjoyed myself very much."  said Yao.

Alfred started to tear up himself. "I just really really like you."

Yao ran his hands up and down Alfred's shoulders in an attempt to reassure him his feelings were requited. 

"So..." Yao began again, "Do you want me to kiss you?"

Alfred shrugged, and felt the color rising to his face. "Only if you wanna."

"Ok."

They kissed beneath the orange light. Alfred sat down on the car hood and lifted his hand to touch Yao's hair.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Don't forget to comment :)


End file.
